


Flowers In Ink

by orphan_account



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Multi, transboy!Furihata
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-18 22:47:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4723193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nijimura Shuuzou was terrified of tattoo artists.</p>
<p>Nijimura Shuuzou was also falling in love with a tattoo artist, and in denial about loving his childhood friend. This was not at all complicated.</p>
<p>(Sarcasm. It was complicated as hell.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flowers In Ink

**Author's Note:**

> For the person who actually came up with this ship, I have contributed very little to it, so have a 7k+ word fic about a developing relationship which has basically all of my nightmare tropes to write.
> 
> I really want to write a sequel to this but I doubt I ever will.

Nijimura Shūzō was terrified of tattoo artists.

This might have been an odd fear for a fully grown man who’d been involved in both multiple fights and a small streak of gang activity in his later teenage years, but it was something that preyed on his mind when he had a tattoo parlour directly in front of his own flower shop. When one of the artists stopped at his shop and observed several different flowers to doodle on a piece of paper, he was surprised he didn’t end up hidden behind the desk. Sure, he was quite small, hardly had the look of a threatening man, and what he doodled on the paper was really good, but this man drove  _metal_  into people’s skin for a  _living_.

He mentioned this to Akashi that evening, who watched him in that unnerving way he had before commenting on the incongruity of the situation.

“I know, okay?” Shūzō said gruffly. Akashi smiled and placed his glass on the table—the usual decades-old brandy that must have cost more than Shūzō’s shop was worth on a good day. No matter how many times Shūzō had informed him, he still hadn’t understood that when he invited him out for drinks he meant something  _normal_  and accessible to the greater masses, like the beer he was currently nursing.

And definitely not that they should be meeting in a club of this calibre. Akashi had managed to get him in enough times that they now stocked his favourite beer and greeted him by name at the door, but Shūzō was pretty surprised that he had ended up as a member of a ‘ _gentlemen’s club_ ’.

It was Akashi’s fault. He could blame Akashi for anything.

“I’m just a bit scared of needles.”

“Needles?”

Akashi didn’t laugh, though he smiled pleasantly when Shūzō glowered. “It’s perfectly natural to not like the idea of a sharp piece of metal being driven through flesh.”

“Didn’t you get a piercing a few years ago?”

Shūzō shifted uncomfortably in the premium quality leather chair and promised himself he would drag Akashi to a bar, or even never talk to him again. “Well, yeah. But I don’t wear it anymore.”

“A pity. It suited you.”

Not that Akashi made many jokes (or any, in fact), but Shūzō was pretty convinced that he was making a joke at his expense. “I fainted when I had it done.” He admitted it as quietly as he could, but with how quiet the club was that night old Tanaka-sama choked into his drink and laughed before apologising much too politely at his outburst. Shūzō waved a hand at him and forced a smile. “What’re you looking so happy about?” he hissed to Akashi, who was positively  _beaming_. “I don’t care if you’re one of the richest men in the eastern hemisphere; I’ll still deck you.”

His red eyes still holding a spark which betrayed how delighted he was, he instead stared at the painting (Akashi had told him what it was; something like Rembrandy? Rembrando?) hung on the wall in front of them. “I don’t doubt it, Nijimura-san.”

Another beer was placed on the table beside him and he ignored Akashi in lieu of it.

-

The tattooist returned a few days later. Shūzō, feeling like a child and very grateful Akashi was stuck in an office almost the other side of town, hid behind a bunch of daisies.

Not that he looked menacing. His eyes were a large light brown, his hair seemed as soft as cherry blossoms. He seemed soft all over, in all honesty, and not a tattoo in sight. Shūzō watched him from the safety net of the white flowers, pondering over it before he darted a look in Shūzō’s direction.

Worrying his bottom lip with incessant nibbling, he approached. “E-excuse me?” The stammer calmed Shūzō’s nerves a little and he stepped to the side so the flowers didn’t conceal him. Not that they’d done much in the first place. “Do you happen to have any…” he paused and frowned. “Uh… white hollyhock?”

“Not at the moment, no,” Shūzō said.

The other man clicked his tongue and thanked him, starting to turn away.

“Wait a minute,” he added, bending behind the desk and bringing out the encyclopaedia Akashi had gotten him when he’d first opened the shop. It made a loud noise when he dropped it on the surface and, quickly, he flicked through it, coming to rest at the right page.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he did that, if he was honest. There was always the internet for finding pictures of flowers, but he seemed happy enough looking at it, taking a small sketchbook out to make a detailed copy of one of the photos displayed in the tome. “I’m Nijimura Shūzō, by the way.” They  _were_  basically neighbours; it was only polite to introduce himself.

He looked up with those big eyes and Shūzō found himself having to swallow around a lump which had suddenly formed in his throat. “Furihata Kōki,” he said quietly. His hand was shaking slightly as it went back to drawing.

-

“…and then I made the mistake of saying he could borrow the book.”

Shūzō finished recounting his tale with his head almost on the table. He’d finally convinced Akashi to meet up in a normal bar, though if he was to be honest, he kind of missed the overwhelmingly comfortable chairs and quiet atmosphere of the club.

He really hoped Akashi’s influence hadn’t transformed him into some kind of snob.

“Mistake?”

“Well, it means I definitely have to see him again, doesn’t it?”

“Furihata Kōki, you said his name was?”

Shūzō nodded. “Why?”

“It rings a bell,” Akashi said. “But I can’t quite recall…” Seeming troubled, he took a sip of his water. “Probably nothing important.”

Shūzō shrugged and tried to get away from the image of Furihata with a light blush over his cheeks, the scattering of freckles over his nose and his innocent, startled eyes. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had crushes before, it had just never been paired with a genuine fear of the recipient.

Even in the small spell towards the end of his third year of middle school when he’d had an embarrassing crush on Akashi. He’d never informed him of that, though. It would just prompt needlessly embarrassing questions and probably teasing on Akashi’s part.

-

He returned the book a couple of days later, as Shūzō plastered a smile on his face that probably seemed much too fake, and Shūzō found himself hoping that Furihata would stay away for good.

No such luck, though. He came in less than a week later to ask about asters, and Shūzō finally built up enough vestiges of courage.

He’d become such a coward since he’d left Teikō. Akashi would have said that he had no self-certainty, but Shūzō was sure it was just cowardice.

“Why don’t you check on the internet then? It must be easier than going through that book.” He gestured towards it derisively, though he was quite fond of it in actuality.

Shūzō watched as Furihata chewed his bottom lip and colour flooded to his cheeks. Awkwardly, he leant back against the wall to steal a glance at himself in the mirror and was pleased when his poker face wasn’t compromised by Furihata’s reaction. “I like coming in here,” he said quietly.

Shūzō’s heart sped into a thunder. “Y-you do?” His stammer was what caused his own cheeks to heat up.

He didn’t understand what it was about Furihata that made him react like this. It didn’t make  _sense_. Furihata was ordinary, and the other two people he’d considered himself having a crush on (when he was fifteen, Akashi, and a year later Tatsuya) which could probably develop into something real didn’t cause this kind of imbalance in his emotions.

He’d cried when he left Japan and Akashi. He’d cried when Tatsuya had left for Japan. And it was ridiculous. He didn’t have to subject himself to this torture again.

“Would you like to have dinner some time?” Furihata looked at him blankly and Shūzō scratched the nape of his neck, forcing himself to complete the request so there would be no confusion. “As in… go out on a date. Maybe. If you’re interested.”

He didn’t seem anywhere near as enlightened as Shūzō had hoped, but still nodded.

-

Furihata, once he’d calmed down from what had been an initial awkward encounter, relaxed into someone who was quite lively, even though Shūzō himself wasn’t as much so. It was pretty normal as first dates went; they talked about childhoods and school and what their dreams had been when younger and the more realistic aspirations they held now. Shūzō learnt that he also played a lot of basketball when he was in middle school and high school, and of all people went to high school with Kuroko.

“So I’m guessing you know Akashi?” he’d asked. He’d wondered why Furihata had blanched. Akashi was a little intimidating at a first meeting, but not  _dangerous_  in any way.

“Y-yeah. A little. I had to play against him sometimes.”

Shūzō’d laughed. “Well that’s just bad luck.”

Furihata had smiled. “I couldn’t  _do_  anything against him. So… are you still in contact with him?”

Furihata had insisted he pay for himself, so Shūzō threw the bills that paid for his half on the table and he followed suit. “Yeah. We’re pretty much friends.” He wasn’t sure why he added the ‘ _pretty much_ ’. They  _were_  friends, and he owed Akashi at least that courtesy even if Furihata seemed terrified of him.

Furihata lived above the tattoo shop like Shūzō lived above his own flower shop, so they walked back together until Shūzō finally asked, “So if you’re a tattoo artist how come you don’t have any tattoos?”

His hand went to his shoulder. “O-oh. I do. They’re just covered up most of the time. I wasn’t sure if I could make it as an artist so I was careful to be sure that they could.”

They came to a stop at Furihata’s door and Shūzō waited for a moment, trying to work out if Furihata would slap or kick him if he stole a kiss. “So… uh…” He wished he was Akashi. Akashi wouldn’t be so tongue-tied right now.

“Would you like to come in?”

A breeze could have flattened him. He nodded and started to follow Furihata in, being halted when he placed a hand on Shūzō’s chest. “Sorry, I—”

“Nijimura-san, before…” He trailed off and cast his eyes to the ground. “It’s just that I’m transgender.” Shūzō watched as he played with the hem of his shirt. “I tend not to tell people unless I feel like I  _have_  to, and obviously if this changes anything I understand. I know it’s a bit like I’ve been lying to you but—” He babbled on, started to talk too fast for Shūzō to really catch anything he was saying, and was effectively stopped when Shūzō tilted his chin up and leant in to kiss him.

He lingered for nothing more than a couple of seconds but could feel the world moving beneath them. “It doesn’t change anything,” he assured. Furihata watched him with wide eyes before pulling him in.

Shūzō ignored the shop (nothing would be more embarrassing than getting woozy at the sight of a needle) but it wasn’t as creepy as he’d expected. Furihata almost ran up the stairs, unlocked the door with a shaking hand and jumped when Shūzō couldn’t resist the allure any longer and kissed his neck. “Am I going to be allowed to see your tattoos then?” he asked, pretty sure Furihata knew what it  _actually_  meant.

Maybe they were moving too fast, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care.

“You’re biting one right now,” Furihata said with a muffled laugh. A hand twisted through Shūzō’s hair as he muttered an apology and let go of Furihata’s shoulder. He stepped away when Furihata started to unbutton the blue shirt he was wearing and let it fall to the ground, pausing before taking off his bindings.

Magenta flowers and emerald vines stretched over his back from the point of his shoulder to the opposite hip. When Shūzō didn’t look at them directly it looked as if they were growing and moving with inexistent wind. He touched some petals falling down just beside his spine.

“Did you design it yourself?” he asked quietly. Furihata nodded. His ears tinged red when Shūzō traced the outline of a magnolia on his shoulder blade. Swallowing around a lump in his throat when Furihata leant back against his touch, Shūzō slowly curved his hand around Furihata’s waist. He could see another ink marking on his hip—some phrase in a language he couldn’t decipher—and with his lips at Furihata’s ear asked if there were any more tattoos. Although he turned red at how quiet and low his voice was already Furihata still pressed himself Shūzō.

“My legs,” he said breathily. “From when I was practicing with white ink.”

It was a clear invitation, though all this was moving too fast and too intensely. Furihata was too captivating for his own good.

-

He wasn’t entirely sure why he blurted out to Akashi that he’d ended up going on a date and consequently slept with Furihata, but could make some wild stabs at possible reasons.

First, he was trying to make Akashi jealous.

This was ridiculous, and a theory which was immediately discarded. Akashi, for one, wouldn’t be jealous over a single sexual exploit with someone who would not be regarded as ‘hot’ or ‘sexy’. For two, Shūzō had no reason to attempt to induce these feelings as he himself had no feelings for Akashi other than a budding camaraderie.

Second, he was trying to impress Akashi.

Again, rather ridiculous. Akashi was good-looking enough that Furihata would be perfectly within his reach if he felt the need to obtain him in any way.

Third, he was basically an idiot who couldn’t keep quiet.

This was the most likely. His normal aloofness always drifted when he was with Akashi, and he always tended to reveal more than what he would have initially wanted. Maybe Akashi hypnotised people with his eyes. Maybe there was still some lingering attraction from when he’d pathetically pined over Akashi before pulling himself together.

The shock factor may have been another reason; when his glass slipped through his hand, and he looked at Shūzō in a much more blinded way than he should have. “You did  _what_?”

Shūzō didn’t answer, considering how much of a bad idea this was. The club was less crowded still tonight, but it wasn’t the place to discuss a practically non-existent sex life which had suddenly flowered the night before.

And hopefully tomorrow night. Shūzō made a mental note to ask Furihata whether he wanted to go out again.

Akashi whacked his shoulder, and that  _hurt_. For some reason, he insisted on wearing a ring that had the Akashi family insignia, even if, except matters with the company, he didn’t actually have any contact with any of his family. Shūzō made the pain obvious, receiving a look he couldn’t quite decipher but which chilled him. “What?” he exclaimed.

“You’re an idiot,” Akashi hissed, abruptly leaving.

Shūzō couldn’t help but think that the three other men in the room were glaring at him, as if they knew  _why_  he was suddenly an idiot, but Shūzō couldn’t puzzle it out. After a short moment of being unable to move as he tried to work it out he followed, throwing the door open and peering through the dusk and the rain until he saw the red head almost halfway down the street. He called after him and ran, grabbing his arm when he didn’t respond.

“What did I do?” he asked once Akashi had frozen.

Akashi turned, his expression partway between angry and resigned. “You really don’t get it? After all this time you’re so dense that you don’t  _get_  it?”

“Get what?”

Akashi shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair, which had rapidly become soaked with the rain.

It was times like this when he could still feel vestiges of his brief infatuation with Akashi. His eyes were bright with emotion, his cheeks high with colour even as he shivered at the pounding rain. Raking his fingers once more through his hair, he watched Shūzō in a way that made him wonder if it was just rain on his cheeks or if some of it was tears, before cursing him and approaching.

The deluge was completely forgotten when Akashi kissed him. His hands were ice cold on Shūzō’s neck, which was odd what with how warm the rest of him was. It couldn’t really be compared with the way Furihata kissed; it would be like comparing the sky and the sea. Furihata had been slowly seductive, letting Shūzō set the pace with only small noises and shivers to encourage him, but Akashi knew what he wanted and took it.

“Think about it,” he murmured, kissing him once more before turning and leaving Shūzō staring after him.

-

Shūzō had lost count of how many sugar cubes he’d dropped into his coffee, but when Kuroko put a hand on his as he reached for another he stopped. “Uh… I’m sorry. I’m kind of out of it.”

Kuroko sipped his drink. “I’d noticed. Were you going to tell me why you called me here, Nijimura-san?”

Shūzō sighed and eyed the sugar cubes instead of looking at Kuroko. He had an odd feeling that Kuroko already knew everything. He was just like that. “Well, you’re the only one who knows the two others involved in this and has any sense whatsoever.”

Kuroko blinked. “Did you do something you shouldn’t have, Nijimura-san?”

“Something like that.”

“Go ahead. I will do my best to help.”

He was so polite. It was creepy.

“Do you think it’s possible to be in love with two people at the same time?”

He’d wanted a straight-cut answer, a ‘yes, Nijimura-san’ or ‘no, Nijimura-san’, because at least then he’d have something to work from. But when after a couple of minutes, during which nothing was said and Shūzō watched his coffee as if it would start talking and predicting the weather whilst pirouetting, the hope dissipated.

“Why are you asking me?”

He watched Shūzō with what appeared to be seriousness, and Shūzō wondered whether he could try the ‘I’m asking for a friend’ line. “I… well, I’m just finding myself in a bit of difficulty—”

“You don’t need to tell me what’s happening,” Kuroko interrupted. “I just want to know why you’re asking  _me_  for advice.”

“Because you’re the only one with any sense and you know them both,” he repeated.

“I expect if you wanted advice from a close friend you would have talked to Akashi-kun…” Shūzō flinched and some coffee sloshed onto his hand. “Unless he’s one of the aforementioned party,” he added nonchalantly.

Maybe asking Kuroko for advice had been a mistake.

He took another sip of his drink—vanilla milkshake, he hadn’t changed much over the years—and regarded Shūzō. “Furihata-kun opened a shop in front of your flower shop, didn’t he?” he asked conversationally.

Shūzō bit his tongue and forced a smile. “I think so,” he said. Kuroko cocked an eyebrow and Shūzō wondered how he’d thought he could keep something like that hidden from Kuroko. He was like a bloodhound in sniffing out secrets.

-

Shūzō stayed for at least an hour after Kuroko left, ordering two more coffees and mulling over what Kuroko had said, all of it really rather surprising.

Like the fact that during high school Kuroko had actually attempted to set Akashi and Furihata up on a date, only for Furihata to get the time wrong. When Shūzō had asked for the reasoning behind this set-up, Kuroko had been pensive before saying, “ _They just seemed to fit in an odd way. They were only acquaintances but already had chemistry and I suppose I wanted to see what would happen._ ”

Shūzō couldn’t imagine them having any kind of chemistry, but then again Kuroko was never wrong about these things. He’d known about Shūzō’s crush on Akashi, after all, and proceeded to inform him that he’d been very aware of Akashi’s crush on him, even if for whatever reason Shūzō had been entirely oblivious.

He still couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it. Two weeks later he was in a coffee shop with Kōki listening as he chattered about the time Kuroko adopted a dog—or it adopted him—and the ace of their team revealed a deathly fear of all things canine.

“Akashi’s scared of dogs too,” he added absentmindedly. He felt overwhelmingly guilty for a moment. He was with  _Kōki_ , Akashi shouldn’t be anywhere near his mind, especially since he hadn’t seen him since that night. In the rain.

He wanted to faceplant on the table or run out of the café screaming. It was true, he’d been avoiding Akashi like the plague and even considered blocking his number (not that he’d called at all).

Kōki laughed before putting a hand to his mouth to muffle the sound. “Don’t tell me you’re scared too.”

Shūzō shook his head. “I’m quite fond of them, actually.” He watched as Kōki beamed.

“Good. Because I want a dog once I’m more settled.”

He could pinpoint that as the moment when his mind shattered with the realisation. Kōki was planning their future—whether purposefully or not. And Shūzō couldn’t bring himself to choose. If he thought about remaining with Kōki he was pining after Akashi, if he went to Akashi he would miss Kōki so much he wouldn’t be able to focus on  _their_  relationship.

It wasn’t as if he could ask Kuroko for advice again; it was too embarrassing to admit that he had done nothing about his predicament for the past two weeks. Struggling on was the only option.

“So when was the last time you saw Akashi?”

He had been dreading a question of the kind—which was why he never should have mentioned his name—but still answered. “About two weeks ago.”

He sounded more morose than he should, and Kōki eyed him, biting the side of his lip before cocking his head thoughtfully. “He… he came into the shop.”

Shūzō dropped his coffee and Kōki backed his chair away from the table before it dripped onto his lap. “What did he say? Why did he…?” he let himself trail off—maybe Akashi  _hadn’t_  done a dick move and told Kōki what had happened between them, and admitting it would be admitting that there was something  _between_ them and he couldn’t see a future without Kōki, not any more. “He wanted a tattoo?” he said, forcing a short laugh.

Kōki shrugged. “I didn’t find out why he came in. At least, he didn’t tell me.” He was still observing him, and his eyes narrowed with an astuteness that had Shūzō scrabbling to find some answer which didn’t lead to him alone and regretting ever having let Akashi back into his life. Or Kōki in it. With the progression of time he and Akashi would have ended up together, he  _knew_  that. But Kōki, Kōki with his quiet strength and determination which always shone through a nervous exterior, with his habit of playing with his hands when he was anxious and his smile, always bright whether it was wide and open-mouthed or the glint of one residing in his eyes. “I used to have the biggest crush on him,” he said, almost absentmindedly.

Shūzō’s blood chilled, and he quickly mopped up the coffee to prevent more dripping onto the floor. Kōki was watching him expectantly. “Join the club,” he tried, ready to laugh it off and point at someone else in their past—he was sure it would be hard-pressed to find someone  _not_  a little in love with Akashi—but Kōki smirked at him before taking his hand and threading their fingers together, his own delicate and small compared to Shūzō’s.

-

He didn’t expect to see Akashi in Kōki’s shop.

He felt blind-sided at it, the magenta and brunet so close to each other, and whispering so quietly he couldn’t tell if they were arguing or not. He didn’t know if it  _mattered_ , in the end. If he couldn’t stop thinking of Akashi, he would have to break it off with Kōki, but he knew that he was so gripped by everything Kōki did that he wouldn’t be able to move on. Instead he would take the few moments he had with Akashi and the weeks he’d had with Kōki and take it silently to the end.

Wasn’t it more than anyone deserved, after all?

They sprang apart when Shūzō knocked on the wall, though neither looked particularly guilty. Akashi seemed irked (though whether at being forced away from Kōki or at Kōki himself Shūzō couldn’t tell), whilst Kōki was emotionless.

All that he knew was that tension in the room was mounting, and Shūzō only felt worse at the thought that he was in a room basically filled with needles, and from the whirring of a mechanism behind a blue curtain, there was even someone getting their skin skewered multiple times with ink.

“What’s, um… what?” he said, and Akashi’s eyebrows raised at his eloquence.

“What was that, Shūzō?” Kōki asked.

The air between them all was almost vibrating. All he could think was Kuroko’s words about trying to set them up and Kōki’s admission of his former crush, but with another try he formed a mostly legible sentence. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing in particular.” Akashi’s eyes were piercing, and he was sure that his left eye was more gold than red. It happened a lot, when he was angry, when someone defied him, when he felt like he was losing control. It just reminded Shūzō again at how much of a broken individual he had become, how he’d watched him shatter from the inside when they were only children.

“Akashi-kun was ruminating.” Shūzō couldn’t work out what Kōki was implying.

“On getting a tattoo,” Akashi completed.

They were completing each other’s sentences? “Right,” Shūzō said, scrutinising the door and wondering if he’d accidentally opened a portal to a parallel universe. “What kind?”

“I haven’t decided.”

“Your father wouldn’t approve, would he?”

Akashi’s lips parted slightly, and Shūzō remembered how it felt to have them pressed against his. “There’s a lot I would do which he would not approve of, Shūzō.”

The tension wasn’t just any tension. Kōki gave Akashi a sideways glance, still unreadable, and under Akashi’s analysis Shūzō felt exposed. He didn’t know, at that point, whether Akashi was edging his way in for  _him_  or for Kōki.

Heat built up in the pit of his stomach and his mouth was dry, but he clamped down on everything, instead clearing his throat. He was unable to say anything, though. Too scared to, that his voice would give up.

Nothing had been clarified by the time Akashi left, and even though Kōki was busying himself putting away the photo books he’d taken out for him, Shūzō still felt like he was being observed. Had Akashi decided that  _Kōki_  was the one he wanted?

Kōki brushed his hands on his jeans once he’d finished, and froze when Shūzō wrapped his arms around his waist, before dropping his head to one side and sighing when Shūzō kissed his neck. “What were you two talking about?” he asked once Kōki was suitably distracted.

“He wants a tattoo and was trying to work out where it would be least conspicuous. Come over tonight,” he added.

He could always try to get more out of him then. There had to be _something_  going on. Something which explained the tension between the three of them. “You would tell me if you wanted to break up, right?”

Kōki’s eyes widened. “I don’t want to break up!” Dragging him lower by his collar, he pressed an almost angry kiss to his mouth, and Shūzō’s hands tightened over the curve of his hip. “I don’t,” he repeated before saying, “There’s people waiting to go into your shop.”

-

It wasn’t until Kōki was almost asleep on his chest that Shūzō asked again, but instead of getting a clear answer as he’d hoped, Kōki propped himself up to glower at him. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“It’s Akashi,” he explained. Kōki raised an eyebrow and he backtracked. “I  _do_  trust you, Kōki.”

“And you’re still in love with him?”

It was said so matter-of-factly, as if he was commenting on the state of the shop or his hair, but Shūzō saw the flash of _something_  in his eyes. It was gone too quickly to decipher, but there was no point trying to deny it. “I love you,” he vowed instead.

Kōki pressed against him again. “I never got over him either, you know.”

“Doesn’t mean that we can’t.”

“Doesn’t mean that we  _should_ ,” he corrected, though Shūzō couldn’t fathom why. Instead he listened as his breathing slowed, ran his hands over the curves of his ribs and hips. His inked skin was such a contrast to the plain, pale bed sheets that Shūzō couldn’t help but think that Kōki had been dropped in from some celestial family. Maybe he saw no qualms with loving two people at the same time, maybe his heart  _wasn’t_  pulling him in two separate directions but instead to a single end.

Maybe he could read the future and see that this mess was worked out, ultimately.

Akashi invited him to the gentlemen’s club the next night. Shūzō battled with whether or not he should inform Kōki but in the end it was Kōki who chose. Whilst drawing some roses into his sketchbook for practice he casually said, “You’re going out with Akashi tonight?”

“Not  _going out_ ,” Shūzō insisted, and Kōki bit his lip, though his mouth was still curving into a smirk. “We’re… meeting up,” he ameliorated. At least it was a less loaded phrase. “How did you know?” he added cautiously.

“We’ve been in contact,” he answered lightly. “I should go back,” he continued, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell.

Six hours later, he was cursing Akashi as he watched him. Akashi ignored him for a while, instead engrossed in a tome which was probably thicker than all the books Shūzō had ever read put together, before closing it and looking at him expectantly. “You have questions.”

“I… I do?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

“Ask,” Akashi commanded.

Shūzō noted that his usual polite way of talking had been dropped and saw the paler colour to his left eye. One more thing to be careful about. “Ask?” Akashi stared at him. “I thought you didn’t like Kōki?”

“I never said that. I’m actually rather fond of him.”

_Rather fond_. Shūzō had no clue what kind of relationship that pertained to. “And when did that start?”

Akashi paused. “In our third year of high school.”

“Were you aware that Kuroko attempted to set you up?”

Shūzō watched as he was silent and closed his eyes. When they reopened his left eye was magenta again. “No, Nijimura-san,” he said softly.

“Why did you pretend you didn’t remember who he was?”

“I didn’t pretend. I have difficulty remembering people.” His hand reached to touch just below his left eye and Shūzō let it drop. They didn’t discuss Akashi’s condition. When they were together, as far as either of them knew, Akashi was a normal adult with a normally stressful life.

“What were you talking about in Kōki’s shop?”

Akashi looked ahead. “Pass.”

He would  _never_  find out. But now for the last question.

“When you kissed me, was that a lie?”

He could feel it all again when Akashi observed him, the rain against his skin and dampening his clothes, the coaxing way that Akashi kissed, just how cold his hands had been against his neck, how his body was smaller than Shūzō’s, but only a little, just enough that he had to go on his tiptoes to kiss him, but not as small as Kōki’s. “No, Nijimura-san,” he answered.

-

He came out from the back room of his shop to see Akashi and Kōki laughing about something.

And it was probably the strangest thing he’d ever seen. Akashi didn’t understand jokes. Although Shūzō never let himself think about it too much, he was aware that his mental state didn’t allow him to  _understand_  jokes. So when he laughed it was lightning striking the same place twice, beautiful and rare and… dangerous.

Something inside his chest throbbed.

Kōki greeted him with a smile before dashing forwards to kiss his cheek, and Shūzō carefully avoided looking Akashi in the eye. “Can I draw these?” he asked, touching the pot of catchflies in his hands. Shūzō handed it over, and he passed Akashi to place them on a table. “They’re the same colour as your eyes,” he said lightly to him, and Shūzō jolted. Why didn’t he mention his hair instead? Noting the eye colour was much more intimate. And the way Akashi gave him a little smile which had too much fondness to be good for Shūzō’s heart, which was returned by an equally fond smile by Kōki as if they had their own secret world.

He almost felt like he was intruding.

Maybe that was for the best, then. He couldn’t quite choose between the two of them, so maybe they should choose each other and he himself should leave. Probably find another shop somewhere on the other side of town so he wouldn’t have to watch them from across the road. “What were you laughing about?” he asked, his mouth dry.

Akashi smirked as Kōki looked up from his sketchbook. He stalled for a little bit, as Shūzō slowly descended into more and more panic. “I was… uh…” he bit his lip to stop from smiling. “I was just telling Seijūrō-kun about that time you walked into my shop when a customer was getting a tattoo done in the main room and… felt a little woozy.”

_Seijūrō-kun_? Even Shūzō hadn’t come close to calling Akashi by his given name. And Akashi didn’t look startled, as if this was a normal occurrence. “I don’t like needles,” he said automatically.

That had been a horrific moment, actually. The man was having one done on his elbow and was tight-lipped and white-faced from the pain. Shūzō had taken one look and his vision had been obscured by black spots, he could hear the blood rushing around his body as if everything was a race, and swayed on his feet before Kōki noticed it and caught him to place him behind the counter away from the vision of someone being skewered and tortured. It was medieval in its cruelty. Kōki had been holding back giggles from the moment he walked in and saw it, but at least was good at taking care of him, kissing his forehead, stroking his hair and letting him stay down until the tattoo was done.

He still felt uncomfortable just thinking about it, and stared at some flowers until he wasn’t feeling quite so queasy.

“I have to go,” Akashi said, and Shūzō almost choked on his own saliva when he squeezed Kōki’s hand.

Something was definitely going on between them, especially when the look they shared was once again as if they were having an entire conversation, almost as if a chasm would open up between him and the two of them if he let it.

“I need to talk to you tonight,” Kōki said quietly once Akashi had left.

Shūzō forced a smile and accepted Kōki’s kiss. He wondered, when it was just as convincing as it always had been, if Kōki had always been lying to him.

-

Kōki made his way back over when the shops were both shut, leaning against the door once he’d shut it. Shūzō wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but doubted he had a choice.

He’d have to start looking at selling on the shop the next day, rather than seeing the two people he was in love with—would only  _ever_ be in love with because who fell in love more than twice in a lifetime after they hit twenty-eight?—every day as if he didn’t exist. “You wanted to talk?”

Kōki nodded.

“About Akashi.” It wasn’t a question, there was no  _need_  for it to be a question, just the softened, bright way he smiled at his name was enough to answer any lingering doubts. A lump formed in his throat. “You don’t have to stay with me, Kōki.” He ignored the confused look he was given and interrupted when he started to talk. “I saw the way you are together, and that’s…fine. Well, not fine, but I know these things can’t be controlled and obviously I’m the obstacle. So instead of you having to choose, I will. I’ll leave and find another place for my shop.”

He stopped, and Kōki’s expression was unreadable except for a hint of humour. Humour?

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk so much,” he finally offered. Shūzō… he wasn’t quite crying, but it could be close. As long as Akashi didn’t walk in, and he wasn’t once again presented with the two people he would always regret losing, he could hold off until Kōki left. “Of course, it’s all utter bullshit,” Kōki added. “Is your opinion of me really so low? If I didn’t feel the way I did I wouldn’t stay.”

“But Akashi.”

Kōki kept on staring at him expectantly, even though Shūzō had _no_  idea what he was expecting. For him to reveal some magical way that they could actually all be happy? Was he expecting Shūzō and Akashi to fight to the death over him?

“Is that all you’re saying? I was hoping you would figure it out yourself.”

“What magical way is there which could actually end up with everyone happy?”

Kōki approached and took his hands, even though Shūzō tried to pull away. He was always stronger than Shūzō expected. “Think about it.”

“What is there to think about? Do you want me to  _kill_  him?”

Kōki blinked. “No. That wouldn’t be the right thing to do at all.”

“Then what is?” He finally succeeded in wrenching his hands free and Kōki looked down at his own with his brow furrowed.

“Akashi wasn’t thinking of getting a tattoo.”

“I know,” Shūzō said tersely. “I don’t really want to hear if anything happened between you two.”

“Nothing physical. Less than you did with him, at least.”

He  _knew_? Shūzō almost asked how long he’d known that for and whether it was Akashi or… could it have been Kuroko? Could he really trust him so little? Shūzō turned away—better to seem guilty than let Kōki see that some tears were readying to spill themselves.

A small hand was placed on his back. “I was never angry. Akashi was trying to rile me up to begin with, but he was just scared that he would lose someone—lose  _you_ —again. So he told me what happened, and told me to back off.”

He didn’t care what Kōki said. Akashi had told Kōki to back  _off_? His hands clenched into fists and Kōki grabbed hold of his wrist. “No, he retracted the statement a couple of seconds after when he realised how ridiculous it was. And he…” Agitation built. He clawed his hand through his hair once so it was standing up on end. “I suppose it just reminded me of all the times when I could _tell_  he was barely holding it together in high school and it felt like I was the only one who noticed or cared, and though I could never bring myself to ask him if he was… okay. But at that point we were alone so I asked. And he told me.” Kōki paused, and Shūzō finally faced him fully again.

“He’s afraid of being left behind,” he added, and Kōki nodded.

“There’s a way he doesn’t have to be left behind and we don’t have to choose.”

Unfathomably, Kōki loved impossibility. “How exactly is that going to work?”

“Think about it. Seijūrō confessed to me a few days ago, all the while talking about what he felt for you, and neither of us have ever gotten over him. Who  _could_  get over someone like him?”

Kōki looked at him expectantly. “What about it? All it does is make every relationship a mess.”

His face fell into his hands and he took a couple of deep breaths. “I really hoped you would figure it out yourself.”

“Figure  _what_  out?” Shūzō almost snapped, and Kōki punched his shoulder, just hard enough that he had to brace himself to not step back.

“It’s not that difficult. We can’t choose, so why aren’t we in a relationship together? The three of us? Then there’s no need to choose. We’d be together.”

Shūzō stared at him.

“I think it’s at the point that the only viable options are that we separate, or the three of us remain together. I can’t stay away from Seijūrō any more than I can stay away from you, and I know you’ve been pining over him when we were together.”

He  _would_  have entertained the idea, if it wasn’t complete madness.

“You mean you never thought about it? Not having to choose between the two people you love?”

Shūzō was a traditional person. As was Akashi, he was pretty certain, even if Kōki defied convention as much as he could, and _this_  was too far, too much to wrap his head around.

“Stop overthinking it, Shūzō,” Kōki said when he was quiet for too long, as if it was so easy. “It’ll work. Trust me.”

He hadn’t spoken for an age, and when Kōki’s entire demeanour shifted to panic, with flitting, evasive eyes his chest throbbed. “Isn’t it too idealistic?” Shūzō asked.

Kōki’s breath caught. “No,” he said, like it was an oath. “It really isn’t. If we decide to do this it will be hard. But… we’re adventurers.” The corner of his mouth twitched up in amusement. “Nothing easy is worth it, don’t you think?”

He should have known that Kōki would tear his world apart, but when a kiss was pressed to his cheek and his hand was enveloped between two smaller palms, he could only allow it to happen.

-

Which it did, for a while slow as Shūzō wondered what exactly had changed between them except for the official description of their relationship, until he was waking to them both and wondering whether anything  _had_  actually changed, or whether it had been that way since the beginning.


End file.
